


Residue

by VerdantVulpus



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley is itchy, Established Relationship, Hives, I want them to be funny, I'm bad a sicfics, It's Aziraphale's fault, Laundry mishap, M/M, Misunderstandings, Roleplay with Dubcon tones, Sexual Roleplay, allergic reactions, mild wingkink, rash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25834636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantVulpus/pseuds/VerdantVulpus
Summary: Their dinner date is ruined when Crowley comes down with a mysterious affliction. Aziraphale is horrified (and more than a little embarrassed) when he finds the cause, and it is his fault. Crowley does not take it gracefully.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 146





	Residue

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so, there's some role play in this fic that is definitely consensual, but it is role playing an angry dark scene so I want to warn for dubcon, in case someone is sensitive to that tone. There is a safeword. No one chooses to use it.

"My dear, are you feeling all right?" Aziraphale asked Crowley. They were sitting at their usual table at their favorite bistro and the demon was squirming in his seat. The squirming wasn't completely unusual in and of itself, but it was a bit more obvious than usual and Aziraphale hadn't even ordered yet, let alone taken a bite.

"M'fine," Crowley growled but there was a slight flush to his skin around his shirt collar and his knee kept twitching. Aziraphale watched Crowley over the rim of the menu as the demon ground his teeth and jittered. When his knee didn't so much twitch as jump spasmodically against Aziraphale's, the angel gave an exasperated sigh and tossed the menu to the side.

"Should we go?" he asked. "Sometimes is clearly wrong."

Crowley actually whined slightly and to Aziraphale's surprise he nodded quickly and stood. Aziraphale hurried to keep up as Crowley rushed out the door.

"Crowley, what is going on?" he demanded, getting worried. Crowley didn't answer and picked up his pace, scratching at his collar.

"Crowley, please!" Aziraphale urged, starting to have to jog a little to keep up. He loathed jogging. He grabbed Crowley's arm and forced the demon to stop but released him again when Crowley rounded on him with a menacing hiss.

Aziraphale gasped in surprise. Crowley seemed to realize what he'd done and looked miserable. He twitched where he stood, hissing to himself again, swore, and then snapped his fingers.

Aziraphale felt a sudden wave of dizziness come over him and then realized Crowley had sent them both to his flat. The miracle had been hasty. It didn't usually leave the angel feeling discombobulated. Crowley growled and hissed and clawed at his shirt trying to get it off.

"Crowley! Please tell me what's wrong!"

"Itches something fucking fierce, Angel,” Crowley spat, ripping the shirt off him finally. "If I knew what was wrong I'd make it fucking stop!"

"Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed. His beautiful demon's skin was badly inflamed. His arms, chest and back were swollen with hives and Crowley was in a state trying to scratch his skin from his flesh. Aziraphale rushed forward and seized Crowley's hands in his own before the demon did any real harm to himself.

"My dear, please try not to scratch," he pleaded. "You're only making it worse.”

"Itches!" Crowley seethed, eyes wild.

"I can see that, darling," Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's hands. "You seem to be allergic to something.”

"Don't be daft, Aziraphale," Crowley fumed, snatching his hands free. The cool air on his raw skin tickled and his trousers felt rough against his hips. “We don’t get allergic reactions for the same reason we don’t catch colds or get hangnails... Except yeeaaah, I’m apparently allergic to my fucking shirt!” Sure enough everywhere it touched him was swollen and red and he had tucked it into his trousers! 

Crowley hastily unfastened his belt and shoved his jeans down kicking them off his legs. They tangled around his long limbs and he tripped, shouting and swearing a litany of profanity and threats as if he were under attack. Aziraphale shook his head and crouched to help. In his fevered state Crowley had clearly forgotten that he needed to remove his boots before those tight jeans were coming off. 

Crowley sprawled on the cool floor and let Aziraphale finish stripping off the black denim. The angel winced in sympathy, seeing the welts continue along Crowley's narrow waist and hips. 

Aziraphale pulled healing energy to his hands and lightly swept his fingertips along the hives pricking the skin above Crowley's navel but Crowley hissed in pain and twitched away. Aziraphale could feel the heat radiating off Crowley.

"What could be doing this to you, my dear?" 

"Fucked if I know," Crowley hissed, squirming again as if trying to scratch himself against the floor. Aziraphale stroked a hand over the skin on Crowley's legs. It was pale and clear of blemishes. The hives here concentrated where Crowley's shirt had been. The angel stood and fetched the discarded black cotton immediately, turning it over in his hands. It didn't seem itchy to him. He lifted it to his nose but it only smelled like Crowley. He squinted, inspecting the fabric on the metaphysical level and felt the subtle celestial pull of holy energy tug at his aura. 

"No wonder you're so afflicted, darling, there is holy energy embedded in the fibers of this shirt!"

"There's fucking wot?!" Crowley sat up, still rubbing painfully at his chest. Aziraphale held the shirt up as if to show Crowley the energy but of course, the demon couldn't see it.

"How on earth did you end up with—" Aziraphale trailed off looking at the shirt. It felt familiar, and not in that fun 'tear it off your lover' way.

"Angel," Crowley growled.

"Er."

"When you got back here from that holy water bath at my trial you got rid of the clothes, right?"

Aziraphale felt his cheeks burn.

"Of course I did, Crowley! How could you ask me that? As if I could have been so utterly stupid as to leave clothes sopping with _holy water_ for you to stubble upon"

"Right, so you destroyed them?" Crowley hissed, scratching his neck.

"Er."

" _So you fucking destroyed them?_ "

"Well..."

" _Aziraphale!_ "

"I laundered them!" Aziraphale cried. "I wasn't going to _destroy_ your clothes, Crowley. They're yours! And how was I to know that there'd be anything of it left, what with the chemicals they use in dry cleaning these days!"

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, seemingly struck mute with outrage. 

"Oh good lord, Crowley!" Aziraphale gasped, hiding his face in the offending shirt. "the knickers!"

"Are you fucking joking?!" Crowley roared. Aziraphale dropped the shirt, then scooped it up again, then fretted with it a moment before disappearing it. "I'll go find them," he promised.

"Just throw out the whole lot of them!" Crowley hissed. “I'll get new ones. I'll be fucked if I even _risk_ letting that shit near my bollocks!"

Aziraphale fairly ran to the bedroom to toss out the contents of Crowley's underwear drawer. He tossed all the socks as well. Crowley really did have an awful lot of identical items of clothing for nothing to have come back into rotation until now.

His task done, Aziraphale worried his lip with his teeth and returned to help Crowley.

The demon was nearly smoking, his skin was so hot. He seethed and paced and glared. 

"We should get you in the shower, love,” Aziraphale coaxed gently.

"Don't _'love'_ me, Aziraphale," Crowley snarled. "You bloody tried to kill me!"

"Oh stop it," Aziraphale chided. "It was an honest mistake. Now stop being stubborn and let me help you. We need to wash off any residue and try to calm your poor skin."

Crowley hissed again but let Aziraphale draw him into the washroom. He stripped down while Aziraphale started the shower. Aziraphale frowned at the inflamed welts and turned the water quite a bit cooler than Crowley usually prefered. A warm shower would hopefully improve his condition quickly. Aziraphale didn’t hold out too much hope for his mood though.

"This should be more soothing, dear. Do get in. I'm sure you'll feel much better once we wash it all off." 

Crowley stepped into the shower and gasped, clenching up.

"Too cold?"

"Burns!" Crowley yelped.

Aziraphale panicked and turned the water on full cold. A moment later Crowley gave a sigh as the cold water poured over his red skin. Aziraphale made a quiet sound of concern and miracled a bottle of gentle baby shampoo hiding the label from Crowley, and pouring a generous amount on a soft cloth. He removed his own clothes with a snap and steeled himself before joining Crowley under the icy spray.

"The fffuck do you thinkkk you're dddoin'?" Crowley snapped through chattering teeth.

"I'm washing you. You're not going to get it all off just standing there shivering," Aziraphale answered, lathering the cloth and running it lightly over Crowley's back. Crowley didn't say anything more. Aziraphale tried to work as quickly as possible, adding more baby shampoo when the lather ran low and running the cloth in small circles over every inch of Crowley's neck and shoulders. He poured some shampoo directly onto the demon's head and worked the lather up into his dark red hair with strong fingers. 

"I'm so sorry,” Aziraphale said quietly before turning Crowley around to face him and pulling him slightly under the spray. Crowley squeezed his eyes shut as soap ran over his face and he shook violently from the cold. 

"You fffucking will bbbbe," Crowley threatened. Aziraphale giggled and Crowley mimed strangling him. The poor dear was furious with him, of course, but the glares and threats were severely undercut by his shivering.

Aziraphale redoubled his efforts, lathering the cloth again and applying his circles to Crowley's thin chest and hips. Aziraphale bent and planted his knees on the shower floor, his own fingers starting to tremble now, and diligently washed Crowley's legs and feet, trying not to get distracted by what he'd rather do in this position in warmer water with a Crowley who wasn't livid with him. 

"Having ffffun dddown there?" Crowley stammered.

"Could be better," Aziraphale muttered, standing again. "Ready to get out?"

"Fffuck you, Angel."

Aziraphale sighed, turned the water off and snapped them both dry. 

"I'm going to get you some lightweight pyjama bottoms and a soft blanket. You go start drinking."

"Don't you fucking tell me what—wait. What?" Aziraphale smiled at Crowley's shock.

"With the holy residue gone you should start to heal soon as long as you _stop scratching_ " Aziraphale explained, lightly slapping Crowley's wrist where the demon was scratching his waist.

"I'll nip out and get you some cream to help with the itching. Meanwhile you'll feel this all much less if you're three sheets to the wind and it will help you fall asleep."

"And maybe I'll forgive you if I'm drunk enough?" Crowley glared.

"What an ugly thing to say. I hadn't even considered it!" Aziraphale lied, heading back to the bedroom and snapping his outfit back on.

Honestly. The way Crowley was going on you'd think Aziraphale had poisoned him on purpose. 

Sure, he probably _should_ have been more careful, especially after seeing what that holy water did to that poor imp. And to think that's what they wanted to do to _his Crowley_. Unthinkable. 

Aziraphale shook his head to clear his mind of that horrible thought. Oh, he should have destroyed those clothes! Why didn't he? He'd been in such a hurry to see Crowley again, to make sure he'd survived Heaven's trial. He'd been exhausted by all the madness of discorperation and possession and the apocalypse and facing Satan himself and worse, _Gabriel_.

And then having to switch bodies and being concussed with a crowbar and put on trial in Hell! The whole time all Aziraphale could think about was Crowley. How could they speak this way about Crowley? How could they destroy Crowley? Would he ever see Crowley again? Would he be able to tell Crowley he loved him? Would Crowley laugh at him? Strike him? Kiss him?

But none of that was an excuse for this carelessness. He had made an awful mistake and Crowley was right to be furious.

"Paaaaaaaaaaaannntsssssss!" Crowley demanded loudly from the other room. Aziraphale jumped, casting a guilty look over his shoulder and snatched up some black satin pajama pants from the drawer before hurrying out of the bedroom.

Crowley was in the kitchen rooting around in the refrigerator. With his back turned Aziraphale was able to admire his arse as the demon bent slightly to pull a mostly full bottle of wine from the back. The demon turned, pulling the loose cork out with his teeth. He spit the cork towards Aziraphale (rude) and took a long pull from the bottle. 

"Were you looking at my arse?" Crowley asked after drinking half the bottle in one go. He scratched his neck unconsciously as he tipped the bottle back to his lips.

"No. Please close the refrigerator and stop scratching.”

Crowley padded past him, _leaving the refrigerator open_ and snatched the pyjamas out of Aziraphale's hands. "Liar," he hissed and continued into the study. Aziraphale closed his eyes and prayed for patience before shutting the refrigerator door.

"I'm going to the chemist for some cream, Crowley," he called toward the study. "Don't scratch!" 

No answer. Crowley was ignoring him. Aziraphale sighed and hurried on his way. He hated jogging, but he nearly jogged the whole three blocks to the chemist and started his hunt for the cream. 5% medication seemed an awfully small amount, but Aziraphale knew next to nothing about pharmaceuticals, which was what prevented him from miracling a cream together back at the flat. Knowing his luck in all this he would have caused poor Crowley to combust. Aziraphale paid for the little tube of cream and hurried back as quickly as he could.

Part of him hoped that Crowley had fallen asleep. That in the 20 minutes or so that Aziraphale had been gone the demon had gotten sufficiently sauced to relax and drift off.

This, of course, wasn’t the case.

Aziraphale peeked into the study to see Crowley seated on his throne, naked save for the pyjama pants and completely _covered_ in scratches. The bottle of wine from the refrigerator stood empty on the heavy desk before him, but it was the only bottle out.

“Is that all you had to drink?” Aziraphale asked as he handed the tube of cream to Crowley. “Look at you! Crowley dear, you _must_ stop scratching!”

“I _can’t_ stop scratching,” Crowley growled, illustrating his point by raking his nails across his shoulder. “And yeah, I didn’t get drunk either. Needed to be sober for this part.”

Aziraphale felt at a loss. Crowley tossed the tube of cream onto the desk without opening it, then stood closing the distance between them. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and dragged him along with him into the bedroom. 

Aziraphale counselled himself to keep his mind out of the gutter, but his hindbrain was firmly entrenched in a storm drain. He honestly wasn’t sure what to expect. Crowley was clearly still quite miffed, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t enjoyed a bit of angry sex before... although Crowley wasn’t usually the one angry. Aziraphale bit his lip, determined not to say anything at all until he had more of an idea what was happening. Crowley yanked him over to the bed before climbing on the mattress and pulling his pajamas off. Aziraphale let himself watch Crowley bare his legs hungrily, knowing how much the demon liked being seen and admired. It was certainly not a hardship. 

“Gimme your wings, Angel,” Crowley rasped, scratching his chest and arms.

Aziraphale blinked. “My wings?”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley whined, scratching harder. Aziraphale joined him, kneeling on the bed before him and captured his hands again. The demon’s nails were red with blood and Aziraphale could feel the heat radiating off the raw skin. 

“Angel, your wings, please,” Crowley begged. “They’re so cool and soft and perfect.”

Aziraphale blushed but he let his wings unfurl into the bedroom, bathing the white walls in soft silvery light. Crowley instantly reached for one of the angel’s wings and Aziraphale shuddered slightly in pleasure when his feathers were touched. Crowley gently pulled Aziraphale closer so he could press his fevered face against the cool feathers.

"That's right, Angel, Let me take these gorgeous wings," he growled. His hand slid up Aziraphale's thigh and deliberately tapped one finger after another in a familiar sequence. A scene was starting. Crowley paused and Aziraphale smiled, nodding once. Crowley had forgiven him but was probably still angry. Aziraphale was _going_ _to_ _get_ _it_ and he couldn't wait.

“Foolissshh, sssilly, little angel,” Crowley hissed, his voice low and menacing. Aziraphale wasn’t exactly sure of his role yet, so he let his features slip into an expression of wariness, trying to hide his arousal. That became immediately more difficult when Crowley struck out suddenly, knocking Aziraphale back against the bed, hooking one of his knees with an elbow to tilt his pelvis up against Crowley’s as the demon slid over top of his body. Aziraphale broke character with a shrill peal of delight. His laughter morphed into a broken breathy groan as Crowley rutted against him, two hard erections rubbing between two layers of cursed fabric. Aziraphale raised a hand to snap them away but Crowley roughly grabbed his wrist and slammed it back down on the bed. 

Oh right. The scene. 

He looked up into wide golden eyes, shining in the faint light of dusk outside the window and tried not to smile fondly. This was the first time they had tried anything like this, but they’d discussed it often. Aziraphale knew how to stop the scene if he needed to, but he was more than willing to see where the demon was going with _that look._ He shivered and bit his lip.

Crowley thrust again, slow, a small affectionate smile on his lips to take the sting out of his prior action. Aziraphale lifted his head, suddenly needing just a little more reassurance, and Crowley dipped his face to meet his, setting a lingering sweet kiss against his lips. The firm tapping of fingers drummed against Aziraphale’s held wrist. Two taps with each finger. He nodded again to restart the scene. Crowley lowered his mouth to Aziraphale’s shoulder this time and bit down hard. All the layers of clothing cushioned the bite but the pinch of it was just this side of pain and the angel’s eyes rolled back with a moan. 

“Thought you could do me in, did you?” Crowley growled against his ear, making him twitch.

“I… Um…” Aziraphale wasn’t very good at role playing yet. He still wasn’t sure of his character.

“Sssneaky, sssilly thing,” Crowley’s tongue flicked against Aziraphale’s ear, and he bit his lip to keep from moaning again, trying to look worried or contrite. “Coming down to my den, trying to poison me while I ssssleep."

"Yes, well, Clearly didn't bring something strong enough to finish the job," Aziraphale responded primly. 

"Should have finished me off, but now I have you in my clutchesss," Crowley purred, slowly scenting up Aziraphale's neck before biting down on the other clavicle. Aziraphale threw his head back and bit back another groan, his back arching against Crowley's chest.

"What are you going to do to me?" Aziraphale gasped, adding a hurried "foul fiend," as an afterthought.

"You're going to fix the damage you've done, little angel," he hissed, jerking Aziraphale head to the side by his hair so he could suck a mark into the pale flesh of the angel's throat. Aziraphale winced slightly, thinking furiously. He would have healed Crowley if he could. What was he— 

_Snap_

Aziraphale gasped and shivered in anticipation as Crowley vanished his clothing. 

"For the record," Crowley whispered in his ear, “ _that_ is what you _should_ have done with those clothes."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes heavenward. "Obviously. Are we no longer playing?" Crowley winked slyly and nodded. His grasp turned sharp again and he returned to character.

“I won’t _heal_ you, you wicked creature. I came here to destroy you!” Aziraphale spat and made another show of struggling.

Crowley let Aziraphale's knee drop to the side, holding up two slick fingers dripping with freshly summoned lubricant and Aziraphale gulped.

“Don’t you dare,” Aziraphale snapped, even as his hips wiggled a silent _oh yes yes please do_. 

“I’m a demon, silly angel,” Crowley rasped with a dark lustful laugh, “nothing left that I _wouldn’t_ dare.”

Aziraphale felt the first finger circle his entrance, and gave Crowley another token bit of struggling. “Now, take those pretty pearly wings of yours and cool my skin, while I get you ready, hmm?”

Aziraphale continued a litany of protests while he folded his wings around his lover. He _was_ a silly angel. He should have remembered how soothing Crowley found his wings and offered them sooner. Of course, Crowley probably wouldn’t have accepted the help unless it was his own diabolical idea. Crowley stilled his teasing fingers, leaning into the touch of feathers stroking along his sides, arching his back against it like a cat. 

“Mmmm, that’s good, Angel,” he sighed. 

“I’m glad,” Aziraphale murmured, then blushed, unsure if Crowley was in character or not. The grip on his wrist tightened and Crowley bit him again. Right. Not supposed to be glad. “I mean, I’m glad you’re uncomfortable, you vile demon. Why, I’ll be sure to do faAH Ah!—”

“Look at that,” Crowley smirked, “Looks like I’ve breached one of Heaven’s gates.”

Aziraphale groaned at the terrible joke as much as the light pulsing of Crowley’s long finger.

“Wings,” Crowley reminded him, and Aziraphale stirred, lifting his wings from where they had unfurled on the bed and wrapping them around Crowley again. Crowley rewarded him by hooking his finger suddenly and pressing in firmly, making Aziraphale shudder.

“Do you want more?” Crowley growled. Aziraphale nodded slightly even as he struggled harder.

“No! Release me at once!”

“Never going to happen, I like you here,” Crowley hissed, adding a second slick digit. Aziraphale moaned and gasped as Crowley scissored him open gently. “Your wings are cool against my skin, and you make the prettiest little sounds. Such a gentle sweet golden creature you are. I can’t _wait_ to make you beg.” Crowley punctuated this statement with a third finger and Aziraphale cried out, arching his back so suddenly he nearly knocked them both off the bed. 

“Like that, do you?” Crowley smirked, as if he didn’t already know exactly what made Aziraphale squirm. 

“I won’t beg,” Aziraphale declared.

But he did. He always did. He nearly broke when Crowley hooked his knee up again, sliding Aziraphale’s leg up until his pale calf was perched on a bony shoulder. He kept himself from begging only by biting his lip. He nearly broke when Crowley added a fourth finger when Aziraphale was sure this time he was going to get on with it. When Crowley started to frot between the angel's cheeks Aziraphale whimpered his first "please."

"That'sss it." 

Aziraphale chewed his lip, trying to hold back the begging when Crowley smoothed his thumb over it gently, making Aziraphale open his eyes. Crowley adjusted himself, sucking the angel’s earlobe as he eased himself in, pausing with a soft grunt when the tip of his cock finally passed the ring of muscle. Aziraphale closed his eyes again, biting back his moan. Crowley eased forward again, so slowly, taking his time. He moved the angel’s wrists back up above his head, and dropped his forehead against Aziraphale’s shoulder when he finally bottomed out. 

Aziraphale ground his hips against Crowley’s, pulling a gasped puff of air from his lips. 

“Oh someone is _greedy_ for it,” he hissed, grinning wickedly. Aziraphale had lost interest in his character. He whimpered in need, imploring Crowley with his eyes. 

Crowley dipped his head, kissing Aziraphale softly, stroking long fingers down his extended arms. Aziraphale tried to get the blasted demon to move already. He just rested there, fully seated inside the angel, kissing him languidly with all the violence of a lamb. Aziraphale twitched and moaned in aroused confusion and the effort to remind himself to keep his wrists still and his wings around his lover. 

Crowley finally started a frustratingly slow drag and thrust. Aziraphale couldn’t take it any longer. He needed to touch Crowley. His hand flew to the demon’s hair, threading his fingers through soft red waves, while the other clamped onto Crowley’s hip, stroking the smooth skin there lovingly. Crowley chuckled an admonishment against his lips and gently recaptured Aziraphale’s hands.

Crowley slowly dragged Aziraphale’s wrists back up above his head, refusing to break the kiss, and then used the new position to suddenly fuck the poor angel viciously, thrusting fast and deep. 

Aziraphale cried out in shock and pleasure as Crowley fucked him hard, slamming into him with the fury he’d been expecting since he’d fallen into bed tonight. 

“Ah! Ah! Crowley! Yes!”

“Fucking. Holy. Water, You. Damn. Idiot!” Crowley grunted between thrusts.

Aziraphale's climax nearly took him by surprise, he had been so close, and kept on edge for too long. He choked out a garbled string of praises as his pleasure spilled between the crush of their bodies. Crowley continued to fuck him through his orgasm, chanting Aziraphale’s name as he climbed toward his own release.

“Angel, Fuck!” he groaned, his head falling back as he snapped his hips in deep as he came.

Aziraphale felt drunk. His chest was heaving with his breath and he felt his spend cooling on his belly. He grinned at Crowley, whose skin looked completely healed. 

“Still angry, my dear?” he smiled fondly.

Crowley withdrew from Aziraphale’s body and dropped beside him with a contented sigh.

“I trust it won’t happen again,” he murmured.

“I really don’t see how it could,” Aziraphale smirked, but nodded quickly when Crowley arched an eyebrow at him. “Yes, of course. Lesson emphatically learned.”

Crowley cleaned them both with a hasty miracle and pulled Aziraphale closer. A soft blanket pulled itself up over them while Crowley slowly massaged out one of the angel’s wrists, and then the other.

“Didn’t hurt you?” Crowley asked.

“It was wonderful, my love,” Aziraphale assured him.

“Hmm, good,” Crowley smiled and placed a slow soft kiss against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Because I will never let you live this down.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
